My Facebook feed is awash in a sea of grapes, images posted by local wineries of the mouthwatering harvest coming in.

I love Harvest. Soon it will be time for my next favorite season: Rain. At least I hope so.

The excitement of harvest and the lush pictures of grapes is a welcome distraction from the other images in our landscape.

The hills we optimistically call "gold" cannot be called anything but brown these days. They are colored not from the grass, once green and now beige, but from the dust showing through the balding thatch.

Nowhere is it as brown as it is in Paso Robles, where the sight of dusty ridges suggest a crisis even more alarming that our third year of drought.

The aquifer that feeds Paso Robles agriculture has declined dramatically and the expansion of vineyards is being blamed. The result? In the last two years, while wineries have converted 4,000 acres of range land into vineyards, the wells of rural homeowners have gone dry.

In 2013, the supervisors of San Luis Obispo county where Paso Robles is located, called for a moratorium on the planting of new vineyards, the same year Paso Robles was named "Wine Region of the Year" by Wine Enthusiast magazine.

Could this happen here? It is unlikely.

Most vineyards in Solano County are irrigated with water from Lake Berryessa and not dependent on an invisible aquifer with debatable water rights.

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According to Jim Allan, Solano County's agriculture commissioner, "We're very fortunate that we just don't seem to have that problem because of the availability of surface water. We've had pretty much adequate groundwater recharge so that the people who are using wells have not had to go a whole lot deeper."

This is good news, since we city dwellers appreciate our farming neighbors. We're grateful for the open space, farm stands and of course, local wine.

"Solano County has been graced with water because of good planning in the 1950s," said Roger King, a grower with vineyards in Suisun Valley and Shale Peak near Vacaville. "Paso thought they had a aquifer that could never be dropped and just expanded like hell in vineyards and homes."

One of the more troubling upshots of the Paso Robles situation is that despite the wine industry's annual contribution of $200 million to the local economy, the water fights have turned many Paso Robles area residents against vintners. Foreign investors who have recently entered the wine economy are especially easy targets.

The California legislature recently sent a three-bill package to the governor's desk, proposing state regulation of aquifer management in those cases where local entities fail to protect over drafted groundwater. The governor signed the legislation on Tuesday.

Many farmers are skeptical about a change to the current system, expecting bureaucracy and a loss of local control. On the other side, water advocates worry that the recharging of the state's aquifers will take many, many years, even with state control.

So we wish, we pray, and maybe even dance for rain. It won't be long, we hope, that waves of grass return to the hills and vast lakes return underground.

In a climate like ours water will always be a contentious subject.

But one thing we can agree upon, what we could really use, soon, is some rain.

Once again I was thanking my lucky stars last night as I dined with ten friends on a Napa hillside, overlooking the Napa River, and the San Pablo Bay beyond.

Dozens of wineries with hundred dollar cabernets were just over the ridge and you can bet their wine clubs set up dinners just like the one we were having.

What do real people in Napa drink for dinner with friends? There was a Sliver Oak cab from the Alexander Valley, a pinot noir from a boutique vineyard next door and a $15 Norton Malbec from Argentina. Bold and spicy, this was actually the wine I liked best with my vegetable lasagna and meatballs.

Living well is the best revenge, and when you don’t have to pay for it you don’t even feel particularly revengeful.

]]>http://dot-wine.com/blog/rss-comments-entry-35046320.xmlLeave That Tomato Alone!Ann ArborFoodMichiganZingerman'sharvesttomatoamThu, 11 Sep 2014 16:00:57 +0000http://dot-wine.com/blog/2014/9/11/leave-that-tomato-alone.html289395:2952122:35009924I couldn't find a picture of the offending food, this one is from the Gallery of Regrettable Food website http://www.lileks.com/institute/gallery/Thank goodness it’s grape harvest, otherwise the shortening days and the end to tomato season would have me in a funk. As I ponder the end, at least for this year, of those big, fat, multihued heirlooms I am reminded of a particular tomato travesty I witnessed during a recent trip to the Midwest.

It was at Zingerman’s, a deli based in Ann Arbor, Michigan that is known for its locally sourced food, benevolent work environment and a management consulting business touted by the likes of the New York Times. Yep, that’s right. “Business Visioning” and CEO seminars from a deli.

When I was there, both Zingermans and I were having an off day. They were super busy, service wasn’t great and I made myself a little sick because I had to try their artisanal brewed root beer. Delicious, I’m glad I tried it, but hardly a way to start a meal.

I can’t remember what I ate but I’ll never forget what I saw. Next to me was a couple sharing a beautiful heirloom tomato desecrated with a gloppy mess of cheddar cheese spread and I don’t know what all.

Why would anyone do that to a tomato?

It may be (sigh) that Midwesterners demand this kind of food; a delicate leaf of basil and fresh mozzarella would just not taste….tasty enough. Midwestern winemakers must heave a similar sigh when local tastes demand sugary wine, with no chance of the delicate play of acid and sweet that makes wine drinking so glass-swirlingly fun.

I love my midwestern roots and there’s is nothing I’d rather eat than a plate of kielbasa and buttered noodles. Sometimes I think, hey maybe we should just stick to that and leave the heirloom tomatoes to the Californians.

Researchers were unsurprised when they found that Chardonnay was a direct descendant of the Pinot variety. The surprise was that if Pinot was the mother, a variety called Gouais blanc was the father, a variety so far on the other side of the tracks that is it is no longer grown in France or the U.S. In fact, according to an article in UC Davis Magazine (Winter 2000) “several unsuccessful attempts to ban it were made in the Middle Ages.”

Carole Meredith is the same grape DNA authority that conclusively proved that Petite Sirah, a variety grown in California whose provenance was uncertain, was in fact Durif. Another grape the French gave up on. Possibly because in their wetter climate the tight clusters develop rot.

If God forbid your daughter runs off with a low life miscreant, tattooed and unemployed, take heart from the mighty Chardonnay. Your grandchildren may turn out OK. According to Meredith, Gouais blanc and Pinot have been successful parents, perhaps because of their genetic diversity.

Roger King has the gift of gab. I caught up with him at the Suisun Valley Wine Cooperative this week where he riffed, part professor and part bartender, on everything from histamines in grape skins to the water engineering of Solano pioneers.

His ability to talk, with interest and certainty, about almost anything served him well in as a marketing executive for Kirkwood Ski Resort and now as the president of theSuisun Valley Vintners and Grapegrowers Association. Even as a young man an air of certainty was evident. When his law school dean told him his test scores were good and leaving would mean starting again from the beginning, King replied, "You don't get it! I don't want to be one of you bungholes." Except he didn't say "bunghole." King tells it like it is.

If you like to know where your wine comes from, Roger is your man. His dead-on vineyard descriptions and their familiar landmarks are part of the joy of drinking his wines. His King Andrews Albarino comes from a vineyard in one of the cooler locations of Suisun Valley, across the street from Larry's Produce. Seventeen miles to the north, his Sangiovese is grown off of Shale Peak Lane, halfway up Mt. Vaca on the final ridgeline separating Vacaville from the Sacramento Valley.

The two vineyards are a study in contrasts. According to King, part of the albarino vineyard is sitting on an old creek that was diverted by some early farmers and is consequently so full of moisture it needs no irrigation.

King Andrews Zin block with view of Mt. Vaca from Yelp"I've been dry farming this for years but I call it my most irrigated vineyard," King said.

At the other extreme is the Shale Peak Vineyard, an arid location that clocked 117-degree temperatures earlier this year, with irrigation dependent on a well that goes dry as early as January. According to King, the heat is perfect for his Sangiovese, a field blend that includes cabernet sauvignon and petite sirah.

"The heat is great for burning the acid down. The trick is to find the balance between getting the acids down and the alcohol not too high. It is a testament to the fact that grape vines will adapt."

King's barkeep lectures are almost entirely focused on location, soils and weather. Clearly, this is a man who believes in terroir, the environmental factors expressed in a wine that give it a sense of place. He is a minimalist winemaker, preferring vineyard management to experiments in the cellar. He ferments about half his wines with indigenous yeasts, a practice that requires fortitude and patience since they are less reliable than yeasts that are developed commercially.

He's bullish on Solano wine, citing the I-80 corridor as key to its success. However, he's cautious not to jump in so completely he becomes a "captive to selling wine."

King has a Facebook page but no retail or website, you'll find his wines only at the Suisun Valley Wine Cooperative, which is not a hardship considering tastings are free. When you visit try the Albarino, with bright acidity and a fragrant whiff of spiced pears and a hint of lime zest on the finish. I tried the 2012 and 2013, which will be bottled this spring, just in time for warmer weather.

The King Andrews Sangiovese is a bold ruby, with medium structure and a play of cherries and raspberries that amplify in a spicy blend through the finish. See if you agree with the King of the Hill, that Vaca heat is the key to great wine.

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Ann Miller is a Napa resident and wine enthusiast.

]]>http://dot-wine.com/blog/rss-comments-entry-34619247.xmlIn Defence Of RestBook TalkCreativityEmotional IntelligenceRestThoughtsamFri, 03 Jan 2014 03:01:13 +0000http://dot-wine.com/blog/2014/1/2/in-defence-of-rest.html289395:2952122:34539082Life's too short to feel guilty about eating chips and salsa.I've long known that if I needed to "be creative" the best thing to do was to take 1) a shower, 2) a napa 3) a walk. Best, but not necessary, would be to do all three. In the words Daniel Goleman, author of Emotional Intelligence we need times of "open awareness" to be receptive to seemingly unrelated ideas.

I came home from a fantastic New Year's Eve yesterday with big plans to Get Things Done. Instead, I took a nap, ate a year's worth of chips and salsa and binged on The Killing, Season 3.

My only regret was that it took me till halfway through the chips and salsa before I decided to just go with it and not feel guilty. Do as I say not as I do, go for it, even if that means A Big Long Rest.

Blue princess: you really need to see these clothes in action It’s Edith Head’s birthday. I know because Google told me so.

The reason I know who Edith Head is, and just about every millennial does not is that she was 1) the creator of stupendous fashion for movies in the black and white era and 2) she made herself into a brand, the first and perhaps the only movie costume designer to do so.

Her designs for To Catch A Thief make me catch my breath every time Grace Kelly entered the frame. But without Head's savvy branding her costume designs would be merely pretty dresses, not Edith Head.

Her round glasses, her icy critiques and her frequent appearances on talk shows like Merv Griffin and the Tonight Show made “Edith Head” a known quantity. But without the quality of her designs she would have been just an early Kardashian, a brand in search of substance.

FYI, Edith Head was never as portly as she was sketched here

]]>http://dot-wine.com/blog/rss-comments-entry-34387889.xmlYou Don't Have to be a Farmer to Love HarvestamTue, 22 Oct 2013 13:36:55 +0000http://dot-wine.com/blog/2013/10/22/you-dont-have-to-be-a-farmer-to-love-harvest.html289395:2952122:34356520Note: this was first published in the Vacaville Reporter on Sept. 24, 2013.

One of the best things about living in wine country is the newspaper headlines, especially at this time of year.Murder and political malfeasance are not the stuff of our breaking news. What do we care about? Grapes! “Growers Expect Early Harvest,” “Wine Grape Harvest Could Be Biggest In Years,” “Grape Harvest Accelerates,” who knew there was so much to report about grapes?

The articles that accompany those harvest headlines invariably quote winemakers who have been walking the vineyards for weeks, sussing out the ideal levels of sugar, acid and color. They calculate the logistics of vineyard crews, cellar tanks and “hang time,” ever vigilant for the heat wave or rain shower that could ruin everything. When everything is as good as it can be they “call the pick” and harvest is underway.

No matter what the challenges of the vintage year, these winemakers are media savvy; each year their quotes indicate that THIS harvest is “one of the best.” Rarely do they publicly worry that a freak rainstorm will turn their crop to rot or a hot spell will bake their grapes into raisins. The standard comment about a late season rainstorm, as typical as “it’s an honor to be nominated” from an Oscar loser, is “No problem, the rain was just enough to wash the dust off the grapes.” Vineyard full of baked cabernet? “The yields may be off but overall the quality of the grapes is outstanding.”

The winemakers are not so sanguine in the cellar. Their art involves many choices: yeast strains, fermentation temperatures, pressing techniques, and barrel choices, but the quality of the grapes is paramount. They’d rather enhance the flavors created by a playful Bacchus than the fix problems wrought by a cranky Mother Nature.

For everyone in the wine industry it’s an exciting time of year, like final exams and graduation. The work of a season culminates in long and anxious hours, with the promise of leisure once it is all over. People like me, for whom the industry is a spectator sport, see the signs and get excited too. The lights in the vineyards before dawn, the yeasty aromas in the air, the cellar worker in the coffee line, bleary-eyed and still in his rubber boots, all signal that harvest is here.

Harvest is a time when we, in our world of freeways, reality TV, and shrink-wrapped vegetables, can reach back to the ancients and celebrate the elemental pleasures served up by earth and sun. When the daylight is waning, the hills are brown, and even the crape myrtles seem melancholy, it is cheering to see the vineyards. There we see bunch upon bunch of fat, round berries, full of juice and ripening before our very eyes.

I look forward to the day that Solano’s emerging wine industry shoves those joyless headlines off our newspapers in favor or our own harvest news. For now I can enjoy more immediate pleasures: turning leaves, an orange moon, and wines of earlier harvests.

]]>http://dot-wine.com/blog/rss-comments-entry-34356520.xmlWine Pioneers In Their Own Words: Grgich, Martini, Mondavi, Winiarski and MoreamMon, 16 Sep 2013 16:41:34 +0000http://dot-wine.com/blog/2013/9/16/wine-pioneers-in-their-own-words-grgich-martini-mondavi-wini.html289395:2952122:34259854Note: This article first appeared in the Vacaville Reporter on August 27, 2013 under the title, Toast: Our Wine Pioneers: In their own words.

Martini's first winemaking experiences: sometimes good, sometimes not. It smells good in here. Usually I say that when I enter a winery.

This time I'm talking virtual aromas. If we could smell through the Internet (it's just a matter of time, isn't it?) the Bancroft Library's oral histories of wine pioneers would smell of cedar cigar boxes, a hint of grandpa's aftershave and wine, of course.

The introduction to the collection explains oral history as "a spoken account, offered by the interviewee in response to questioning, and as such it is reflective, partisan, deeply involved, and irreplaceable."

Yes, it is exactly that, deeply involved and personal. The kind of thing you would hear at the knee of a favorite uncle, when you grab the nuggets of what you want to know from what he wants to tell you.

All the names are here: Gallo the behemoth of Modesto; Mondavi the restless innovator; Winiarski -- political theorist turned winemaker; and others (admittedly almost all white and male) who made California wine a product of pride for all Americans.

Most of the histories are from winemakers and growers, but a few of the pithier accounts are from a sharp lawyer named Horace Lanza, who recognized prohibition as a business opportunity. "Well, I was one that didn't believe in Prohibition anyway, and I didn't do anything to get in trouble with the government, but if I saw that you bought for sacramental purposes but went around the corner and drank it yourself, I didn't care a darn ... "

Miljenko Grgich relates the frustration of making wine in post-Prohibition Napa, when the industry was starting again, almost from scratch. "White wines were mainly dry sauterne and chablis -- very poor quality. Those wines would be good for six months on the shelf, and then they would oxidize and be worthless." Twenty years later, Grgich made a wine that changed California wine forever, when in a blind tasting, henceforth known as the "1976 Judgment of Paris," French judges chose his chardonnay over those of their own country, which until then had been unthinkable.

The evolution of California wine may best be illustrated in the contrast between two Martinis, father and son, both named Louis.

The younger Martini, educated in enology at U.C. Davis, discusses his interest in microclimate research, sales strategies and the Napa Valley Agricultural Preserve.

In an earlier chapter of the same account, his father remembers the San Francisco earthquake, his loyalty to the "paisani" -- fellow immigrants from the Liguria region of Italy -- and the wine he sold from a clam wagon.

When asked about the kind of grapes he bought, he replied, ""Zinfandel, anything."

And the wine he made? "We made white wine and red wine, put it that way."

This is old-fashioned reading -- these oral histories are not easily scanned.

But like the reminisces of a favorite uncle, they are stories you will never forget.

]]>http://dot-wine.com/blog/rss-comments-entry-34259854.xmlWine SchoolamMon, 16 Sep 2013 16:12:51 +0000http://dot-wine.com/blog/2013/9/16/wine-school.html289395:2952122:34259749Note: This article first appeared in the Vacaville Reporter on July 15.

"I've taken all the drinking classes so this sounded like the next best thing," joked the man with the distinguished grey at his temples, in response to that inevitable question on the first day of class, "Why are you here?"

Why was I there? In VWT 241 class, Wine Marketing and Sales, at Napa Valley College? I had recently moved to Napa and understood that if I was ever to be accepted in my adopted home, I had better learn a little bit about the industry that employed what seemed to be 99.99 percent of the population.It was only later, as I furthered my wine education, that I learned that wine is the perfect subject for the dabbler and the dilettante, someone like me who is happy to flit across the surface of history, geology, horticulture and chemistry with a warm wine buzz and some tasty food thrown in. If not in the classroom then, at least, doing "homework."

I hasten to tell you that they don't really offer drinking classes in Napa Valley College's Viticulture and Wine Technology program. Tasting, yes. Drinking, no. Spit cups are required. They are usually the large, red Solo brand you may remember from kegs in college. Tasting 30 wines in three hours, we filled and emptied them often. They also came in handy for drooling, yes drooling, which we did in Sensory Evaluation (VWT 173), when we tested the viscosity of our saliva. "Don't watch your neighbor," cautioned our teacher.

What do you learn in wine college? A lot. That pyrazine is the chemical responsible for the tomcat smell in sauvingon blanc, our three-tiered distribution system for wine is a by-product of prohibition, the French ranked their first-growth wines in 1855, a ranking that has remained frozen (save for one exception) ever since, and, when a plant passes something called the "permanent wilt zone," there's no coming back, a fact all too familiar as I look at the snapdragons on my deck.

Some of my classmates were preparing to go on to four-year degrees at Fresno State, Sonoma State and U.C. Davis. Others were home winemakers or vineyardists exploring the transition from hobby to career. Many of my classmates were working in local wineries, product managers, biodynamic advisors and "cellar rats," all continuing their education and sharpening their competitive advantage.

If the Viticulture and Wine Technology program is college, then theWine and Spirits Education Trust (WSET) course is the SAT. In two days we covered what seemed like every wine in the world, with a primer in vodka, Scotch whiskey and other spirits thrown in. Even with my trusty spit cup, I absorbed enough alcohol through my skin to feel a little woozy at the end of each day. With the hefty fee, the No. 2 pencils and exam results you get in the mail, the process really did have the feel of an expensive prep course for a critical exam. What you get for your trouble is a nifty certificate and an international certification of wine knowledge that is more concise than a listing of your coursework at Napa Valley College.

On test day, our group could hear one of our classmates, who had arrived late, arguing loudly and vigorously with the proctor because he was prohibited from taking the test. Quite a change from the affable guy we had been swirling and spitting with a few weeks ago. His fury was no doubt fueled by the knowledge that he would have to return to his employer with $800 of coursework and no certification.

Vacaville is located almost equally close to two premiere venues for wine education, U.C. Davis and the Napa Valley. Whether you choose to go slow and easy or fast and hard, I recommend you get your wine geek on and try a class. Don't forget your spit cup.